Chapter 4

Hide and Seek

Late May 1943

"Do not let him release what dwells within the chamber."

A flash of pain overcame every sense. Harry pressed the tips of his fingers to the scar on his forehead.

"Harry, get up, you're on my jumper."

"He must never unleash the monster."

"Have you gone deaf? Wake up!"

Harry blinked out of his reverie and looked up at the pretty-faced girl standing over him. Her expression was a bit hard to read; she was always sneering, always angry. "What?"

Sighing, Walburga Black, Quidditch Captain and all around impossible nag, tugged on the sleeve trapped beneath Harry's body. "You've been doing that stupid daydreaming all month, and it's getting very annoying. Our final game was a shambles. How you managed to knock O'Hare from his broom and get the Snitch is beyond me…"

Harry propped himself up, releasing the jumper. "Sorry, 'Burga, I've been thinking on stuff is all…"

"I certainly hope it's about the last match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Do you know how important this is? Have your brother find a way to put McGonagall out of commission… I mean it." Walburga snapped the jumper in Harry's face, frazzled by his lack of interest. "If Gryffindor wins the match—they win the cup! If McGonagall… Oh, Merlin's beard… she'll never let me hear the end… I don't even want to think about it!"

As much as Harry loved Quidditch and as good as he was at being a Seeker, his mind was as far away from the sport as it could possibly be. He was glad Slytherin's season had ended. Minerva McGonagall was a challenging Seeker, hard working, practiced, and completely devoted to her craft. Getting someone to sabotage the match for Gryffindor was not something he would consider. He wanted so badly to win the cup for his house, but he could not wrap his mind around that… not when Tom had changed so much over the last few months.

Had he really changed so much? Or was it Harry that had gone through another emotional bout of self pity for being left in the dark? His third year at Hogwarts had been a stellar one. He was making good marks, he was the champion Seeker for Slytherin's Quidditch house team, and he was the adorable little brother of the Tom Gaunt; the handsome Prefect every teacher and student alike wanted to be close to. So why couldn't he feel good about that? Why did everything seem so strange? "Yeah, I'm right on top of that," he said to the fuming sixth year as he pushed himself off of the couch.

The opening to the Slytherin common room was suddenly filled with a dozen male students moving into the room. Several boys were clamouring around, quite giddy about the subject they were speaking of. Harry ducked down to avoid them, not wishing to be seen.

"Stop, come out, I saw you."

Harry cringed, being spotted and looking like a fool for hiding behind the big, green sofa. He stood up, locking eyes with the tallest boy in the centre of the crowd and shook his head. "Can't. Got this thing I need to do." A couple of the boys surrounding Tom snickered, a few others sneered. None of them cared much for Tom's little brother outside of being their house's best Seeker in decades. Harry was annoying, always niggling on his brother to do the right thing. He was a complete goody-goody and right prat.

A hand clinched around Harry's arm and Walburga leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Don't forget about what I told you. Get him to curse her or something."

"Right," Harry said, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. At the time, on his first day attending Hogwarts, he was so proud to have been selected to be a part of Slytherin. It was an honour, his namesake, his right to be among the most cunning of the lot. His dorm mates weren't horrible, and Tom had never smiled as much as he had that day. It was very rewarding to be next to him again, to be so close to one another. Unfortunately, all of that changed so quickly.

Lucretia Black ran up amongst the mingling of males and threw her arms around Tom's neck. "I've been waiting all day for you to get back! Have you thought on taking me on that date yet?" she asked loudly, letting the whole common room know that and Tom had something going.

Harry looked her up and down, gnashing his teeth. There were too many children with the surname of Black in Slytherin to keep track of, and there was always one of them flaunting themselves at Tom in front of everyone else. To Harry, it was a disgusting show that he wanted no part of.

Tom coolly removed the girl's interlocked fingers from around his neck and straightened himself fully. "I need to talk to you," he said, giving Harry a fixed look. He glanced around at all of the Slytherins surrounding him, and added, "Privately." Instantly, all of the people began to dissipate.

Lucretia flattened the rumples in her skirt as she walked away. Passing her without notice, Tom wandered up to Harry and gripped his arm where Walburga had only moments before. "Follow me to my room."

A flush of unexplainable hot blood soared through Harry's veins. Tom was so incredibly in control of all aspects of his life, it was hard not to admire his commanding presence. He was, and always had been, number one of Tom's circle, and that suited him just fine. "Course," said Harry.

A letter was tossed on the large four-poster bed that Harry had hopped on. "Take a look at that. Have you been teaching her how to read and write?"

Tom's dormitory room was much larger than Harry's. Harry loved flopping around on his softer bed and filmy sheets. The deep emerald greens of the curtains were embroidered with silver threads in the shapes of tiny stars that twinkled when the lights went out. The walls were painted in luminous darks in patterns of star formations. The ceiling was covered in enchanted clouds. It was inviting, dreamlike, a second home to him. But no matter how luxurious it was, all of the dungeon rooms were bitterly cold. He shivered from the chill, wishing for that nice warm summer that approached to hurry its way.

The letter was flicked toward Harry, smacking him on the arm. "I know it wasn't Morfin, had to be you," Tom added.

"Who, mummy? A little bit, yeah." Harry picked up the letter and carefully unfolded it. The sad, barely legible scrawl nearly brought tears to his eyes. She had written her first real letter and managed to send it off. He was so proud. He looked up at Tom, who was standing over him folding his robes. "She really wrote this?"

"Mhmm." Tom crawled into the bed and tucked his hands behind his head as he stretched out over the length of the mattress. He did not look happy. "She's getting worse. She made a potion and plans to use it the next time she visits The Hanging Man. She's going to slip it into someone's drink. You know what that means, don't you?"

"No," Harry said in all honesty. He looked over the letter again while he curled up against Tom's side for warmth. The words 'Hanging', 'Riddle', and 'potion' were legible enough, which began to form a picture of what she was trying to articulate. Harry dropped his head on Tom's chest to look at him. "You think she's made a Love Potion to seduce Mr Riddle again."

Tom took the letter and folded it up, then stuck it back in his pocket, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Despite the frigid temperature in the room, his skin was radiating with heat. "More than seduce, Harry. I think she's lonesome, or wants another child… or both. You do realise what she and Morfin have been doing when she sleeps in his room… Even you aren't that purblind. She's been trying to have a baby with him."

Harry grimaced. The thought of their mother raising another child in that home was daunting. He did not want to believe what Tom was saying about her and Morfin. "That's not true, you letch. She wouldn't do that."

"You're so stupid, Harry. Pure bloods do it all the time. Why do you think there's so many Slytherins with the surname Black?" Tom asked him.

Harry's jaw dropped. "They're all related? But they can't be!"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to preserve purity. If you were a female, you and I… would most likely… You know the Slytherin bloodline… well…" Tom stopped himself from finishing, and blushed with a solid shade of crimson.

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "We'd make babies too?"

Tom shrugged, looking off at the wall. "Yeah, sure. There's nothing wrong with it, Harry. It's all conjecture about the taboo of being interbred. I mean… mummy and Morfin are… okay, I admit that they are the exception to the rule." After trying so hard to remain sensitive, he and Harry both snorted openly. They fell in a heap of giggles and intertwined limbs, very glad they would not have to pass their mutated genes along to each other's future offspring.

"I've been thinking on this all day," Tom continued. "I don't think she's able to have more children, however, or she would have had another by now. I've written her back, asked her to wait until we come home so we can help her."

"We aren't going to, are we?" Harry asked, shocked.

Tom nudged him in the ribs. "Of course not, you daft idiot. I'm hoping to Obliviate her from the idea. Now, there's one more thing I need to say, and I won't take no for an answer… and don't look at me like that. I don't want you to go back to that job when we get home. You spend too much time on it and I need you to stay close to her, keep an eye on her so she doesn't so anything stupid."

Harry's eyes were narrowed to slits. Tom was always trying to find a way to control his life. "I like my job," he snapped. "You don't have anything to do, you don't work—you stay home with her."

"Being a common little stable boy for pence a day? You really fancy that…? That's so you." Tom sighed, wishing Harry could understand that he would take care of him from now on without him ever having to lift a finger. He just needed more time to set everything right. "I have plenty to do over the summer, and I have money now. C'mon, I'll buy you a new broomstick if you do this for me." He hugged Harry around the shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

It was then that he felt it; touching the smaller boy, having him wiggling around against him in such a way was getting him very hard. His erection began to strain against the zip of his school trousers while his mind finally wrapped around the realisation as to why. He was sexually attracted to Harry – a boy – his brother… his little thirteen year old brother. Tom rolled off of the bed, stunned by this self-discovery, needing some distance between him and Harry as fast as possible.

"—I have to go—"

"Where are you getting all of this money from? You're doing criminal things with those awful blokes, aren't you?" Harry was lying on his stomach now tugging on the leg of his brother's trousers to keep him from fleeing again. "Don't you walk off after throwing all of this rubbish in my face. Where are you getting all of this money?"

Tom pulled away. He was so tired of explaining his reasons without actually giving Harry any explanation. The boy would never understand what he was trying to do. "That's neither here nor there. Those awful blokes are helping me achieve some of my more difficult goals; making a profit from it is an added benefit. And what about you?" He pointed an accusing finger in Harry's face, turning the tables. "Your marks have gone down!"

"In Arithmancy — so what?" Harry bit back. He collapsed on the bed as if the subject had sucked out all of his energy. "It's just one subject. Numbers aren't worth bothering over."

God, he was so pretty…

Tom backed up, trying his best hide the obvious signs of arousal behind his robes. His hands fumbled with the material, willing the call of eros to quiet. This was not the time for Harry to take notice. "Arithmancy is very important. Do you think Grindelwald ignored Arithmancy?"

Harry rolled his eyes, bit his tongue, and mentally prepared himself for another lesson on just how amazing Gellert Grindelwald, the dark Wizard spewing his desire for Wizard supremacy in most of Europe, really was. Tom was fascinated with him. Harry thought he was an absolute bore.

Tom shrugged sarcastically. "Sure, you could take mummy's route and have her make you a Love Potion so you can find yourself a nice, rich muggle wife to settle down with, too, if that's what your goals are. Why not quit school altogether while you're at it?"

"Fine, I'll try harder," Harry promised, hoping to put an end to the Grindelwald conversation before it fully took off. He grinned up at Tom then, giving him the cheekiest smile he could muster. "Help me study it for my finals next week?"

Tom smiled back, melting on the spot. He always hated leaving on a bad note. "Course."

"Hey, Tom?" Harry mumbled, having only just remembered the moment before he had entered the common room. "I had another one of those er… those visions."

"Were you sleeping when it happened? Was there pain?" Tom sat back beside the boy to look him over more carefully. "What happened this time?" A small trickle of blood had coagulated at the very edge of the lightning-bolt shaped wound. He pulled Harry into his arms and wiped it away, frowning.

Harry told him what the voice had said. He could feel Tom tense up fully around him, as if the cryptic words meant a lot more to him than they did Harry. "Does that make any sense?"

Tom closed Harry's eyes for him as he rocked him in his arms. "You look tired, baby; just get some rest, alright? I'll stay with you till you fall asleep." Harry gave him a weak nod, and within minutes was snoring softly against his neck. Tom sat there in quiet contemplation while he rocked him. The Chamber of Secrets would, for now, remain unknown. These visions, the voices speaking to Harry, were warnings. They had yet to lead Tom astray.

After stepping out of the ornate fireplace, shrinking his and Harry's trunks, and shaking hands with Mrs Rosier for allowing them to use the Floo Network, Tom waved a flat good-bye to their house mate, Druella. She was in Harry's year, she was very pretty and always had googly eyes for his little brother. It boiled Tom's blood something fierce, but that wasn't going to stop him from getting them home quickly. "Thanks again for allowing us to your fireplace. Getting from London takes hours the old fashioned way," he confided to the older woman.

"It's really no problem, Tom," Mrs Rosier said flirtingly. She was leggy and blond, filthy rich, and newly widowed. "You're more than welcome to use it on your return to London in the fall, and whenever you want after." She leaned up against him and flicked a curl out of his eye.

Tom gave her a warm smile in return. "Thank you very much, madam. We'll probably take you up on that."

Druella walked Harry to the door while she and he gaped at the obvious philandering going on between the others. Girls of all ages were always throwing themselves at Tom, and for some odd reason it was really starting to bother Harry. Druella, on the other hand, who was the spitting image of her mother, only seemed to have eyes for the littler version. "Come visit me this summer," Druella whispered in Harry's ear, and put a small kiss on his cheek.

Harry blanched. "But I've got a job…" he mumbled awkwardly as he opened the door. His mouth hung open as he touched the side of his blushing face. "Er… bye, Druella."

The small blonde girl giggled under her hand. "Bye, Harry!"

Tom filed out behind, giving Harry a push. "Come on; let's get moving before the misses asks us to stay for dinner again."

-

There was pure silence between them while Tom's mind wandered along all of the things he had discovered over the past year; everything Slughorn had mentioned about Horcruxes, old Albus Dumbledore's connections to Grindelwald, not to mention Grindelwald's interesting speech about the war with Germany, the brilliance of discovering the existence of The Philosopher's Stone, and the possible use of harnessing and strengthening the liquid that was extracted from it. And if it could be done - would it be as powerful as he hoped? Could it be something he could consume without growing dependent on? These things were so important to him, and completely useless and loony to Harry.

Harry…

Every fleeting thought disappeared as he looked down at him, noting the blush on the smaller boy's cheeks as they walked along the path past the main road in Greater Hangleton. "What's with you?"

"Now you ask—Druella kissed me!" Harry blurted, pointing to his left cheek. He had been dying to say it since they'd left. A kiss, a real kiss, his first kiss! "Just here… with her lips."

Tom's eyebrows shot up into his neatly combed fringe. They would not be using the Rosier's fireplace ever again. That was that. No one was going to touch Harry that way, or any other way. Tom scowled openly at the pink-cheeked boy and gave him another shove forward toward the woods. "Stay away from her, she's a slut."

Harry could sense that his brother was irked, and it enthralled him to wonder as to why. What did Tom care if some random bird had kissed him on the cheek? It was just a little peck, so unimportant on the large scale that was kissing. He said nothing for a long while, contemplating on why his older brother, who had had sex - of all things - would be so opposed to someone touching their lips to him.

"No, she's not. Orion said she's a virgin."

"Hmm?" Tom looked down at Harry again, baffled. He had drifted again, shoving the awful thought of someone kissing Harry into the back of his mind. "What are you going on about?"

"Druella Rosier, you stupid git," Harry said in a low growl. Had he already forgotten about it? "I thought… never mind."

Tom's scowl returned. "Are you going to start up with that again? She. Is. A. Slut. She's got a reputation, everyone knows about it… even Orion. He only defends her because he's fucking barmy about her. You should take that into consideration, he is your friend after all."

Harry pulled his robes over his head and balled them up in frustration. It was hot outside and Tom was making it worse. "What do you know about friends? Your little followers that chase you around all day are… they're all disgusting if you ask me—not friends at all. When are you going to tell them that mummy is really our mother and that the home we live in is really our home? Or what about our Muggle father, hmm? When are you going to—"

Tom gave Harry a brisk shove to shut him up. "I thought we talked about this. There is no Muggle father, and our mother is off on permanent holiday. We never speak about the truth in front of them. They aren't worthy of it. They're so fucking simple minded and blind to blood status even though being the Heir of Slytherin greatly surpasses any part of their pathetic pure-blood heritage. Just being a half-blood, to them, makes me half of what they are… and I won't have that."

Harry was rubbing the spot on his arm where Tom had laid into him. "I think you should be proud that you're smarter, more powerful than they are with only half the magical blood." Through a sniffle, he added, "I'm proud of you, Tom."

A swelling mixture of guilt and pride fluttered in Tom's belly. He stopped Harry from walking by cupping his face. He brushed over the spot where Harry had pointed and claiming the kiss had been placed, feeling an urgent need to clean it off.

Harry's wide, brilliant green eyes blinked rapidly. He clenched them shut and sucked in a deep breath as Tom brought his lips toward him, kissing the very spot that Druella had.

"There," Tom said in a small voice, "Now you've been kissed by someone who loves you, and is just as proud of you."

Harry tittered with embarrassment. He had no idea why this new kiss was so perfectly important to him. He cupped his own cheeks, feeling them burning under his palms. "Thanks, Tom."

Little black spots hindered Tom's vision. He was dizzy with a slew of new thoughts flummoxing his already addled mind. Digging his fingernails into his thigh to stop himself from kissing Harry again and again, he pushed on. "Think nothing of it," he murmured. There was a spring now in both of their steps. There was a need to get home and settle, to begin the summer and adjust to the horrors or Morfin and Merope, to be themselves, and to have fun.

Merope danced around the kitchen table, looking like the daintiest of old, worn out fairies. She was holding a jar of healing salve in her hand. "Come sit, baby-doll, I'll fix you all up," she cooed, patting the chair in front of her. Working in the stables had completely floored Harry's upper body. His muscles ached something fierce. He wasn't sure how much longer he could handle the pain before his body grew accustomed to the tiresome manual labour once more.

The clomping of horse hooves sounded through the window, catching Harry's attention as he moved toward the chair. He watched his mother carefully for a reaction, but there was none. Tom must have done a spectacular job at removing the sinful thoughts about Mr Riddle from her mind this time; she hadn't mentioned him once since their return.

Her long, thin fingers slid along a few of the nastier welts etched on the boy's back as she massaged the gooey salve into his muscles. She sighed as anguish contorted her heavy features. "Oh, Merlin, look what he's done to your body."

"He doesn't bother me much anymore," Harry replied. That was not exactly true, but he felt his mother had enough to worry about. Morfin had played a bit of a prank on Harry only the evening before on his return trek from town. He rubbed the lump on his scalp unconsciously as he thought about how hard his head had collided with the dirt road.

Tom was already gone when Harry had woken up. As with every other summer before, Tom's avoidance of their mother, their home, and of Harry was inevitable. Pulling his shirt on, Harry stood up, adjusting his glasses and thanked his mother. "I'll be home late again. Don't wait up, alright?"

Merope rubbed the excess glop on her apron while she looked out of the grimy kitchen window. "There's a storm coming in, Harry. Maybe you should stay home…"

"Silly, there's not a cloud in the sky," Harry teased, looking over her shoulder. "Besides, what harm can a little rain do?"

"—Lumos!—"

Walking into the dark and unclean house, Tom groaned as the tip of a wand lit up the room and that irritating banshee's shriek filled his ears.

"Where have you been?"

All he had to do was survive one more month of this waking nightmare. He would be turning seventeen by the end of the year and had saved up enough money to get him and Harry a place somewhere closer to Wizarding London, and farther away from her.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" was his apt reply. It was hot; the temperature had exceeded any that he could remember. And he was so tired after a long day of research and experimentation, he just wanted to fall into bed and drift off into a deep sleep. Merope was sitting in the filthy armchair by the fireplace looking dirty and sweaty. Her housedress was covered in ash. Tom's nose crinkled in disgust. "What have you been up to, hmm? Were there more of your elves trying to get through the chimney?" He walked to his bedroom and peered inside. His and Harry's bed was empty.

"Puffskeins, not elves! Go find your brother," Merope ordered threateningly. Her breathing had grown hot and heavy, her hands curled over the arms of the chair, and her mouth was down turned with an ugly frown. "He should have been home hours ago. Where have you been? Why aren't you watching him properly, Tom? He's just a baby."

Tom bit down on his tongue and gripped the frame of the doorway to remain in control. She was right, as loopy as she was; Harry was far too young to be out there alone at this hour. "Yeah, where is this farm he works at?" He would go find Harry, drag him home if he had to and make sure he never went back. Enough was enough. Merope simply could not handle being alone for long periods of time anymore.

His own will was faltering on the matter. It gnawed at his psyche with little rat teeth. His mother was just sitting there, staring at him as if he were the Devil himself. There was a putrid smell wafting under his nostrils from a pot in the kitchen. He could hear the thunderous snores of Morfin resounding out from the other bedroom.

One more month of this hell hole…

The front door opened and closed, and Harry stood at the threshold looking between Tom and his mother. "Why are you still up? I told you I'd be late, mummy." He looked clean but still carried that awful wet straw smell in with him. He gave Tom a knowing wink.

"Ah, there you are, baby-duckling," Merope said through a relief-filed sigh. She got up from the armchair and patted the boy's arm. "I can go to bed now. Good night, boys."

Tom gaped back at her. It was unbelievable how much Harry's presence affected her mood swings. He turned to Harry, shaking his head. "It's really late. You shouldn't be walking home alone from town at this time," he advised him, but Harry merely tossed him a silly grin. They both swallowed hard, watching their mother drag herself into Morfin's room and close the door behind her. Tom shook the vile imagery from his head. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

"It's far too hot to be laying this close by you," Harry grumbled, shifting to his side to face Tom. "You're getting me all sticky. You're a hair-covered sweatbox. It's disgusting."

Tom laughed with mirth. "I'm getting you sweaty and you're stench is making me feel quite unwell." On the contrary, it felt perfect to be lying next to Harry again. The room itself was tiny, barely large enough to enchant the bed to an acceptable size. He might have cared at Hogwarts, but here, this close to the beautiful boy, feeling his warm breath cascade over his collarbone; Tom did not mind at all. Wearing nothing but their breeches with the small window propped opened by a book, everything seemed eerily pleasant at the House of Gaunt. "We could hit the water hole," he suggested, propping his head on a fist to watch the full moon reflect its brilliant glow over the tops of the nearby trees.

"Course," agreed Harry, finding any position he shifted to be very uncomfortable. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and began feeling around the floor for his clothes. His glasses were already positioned on his nose, slipping toward the tip with each stretched movement.

Again, that strange tingle began to spread throughout Tom's being, watching Harry's sylph form bent over and glistening with sweat, illuminated by the pale moonlight. He had grown so much, yet was still so delicate and smallish. The curve of his body, the messy hair hanging in his eyes, the slight muscles contracting with every change of position, fascinated Tom. Harry was gorgeous, absolutely stunning to look at. "We don't need clothes," he uttered loudly, and nearly smacked himself for thinking such thoughts. Merlin's beard, Harry was his brother.

With a shrug, Harry stood up and tiptoed to the door. He cringed, hearing the mattress creak a bit too loudly for his tastes and held a finger to his lips. "For the love of the stars, do not wake Morfin up!" he hissed. "He's ready to skin me alive as it is. Be as quiet as you can, troll."

Tom rolled out of bed, grinning with sarcasm. "Just cast a silencing spell on the room, you bunny. Anyway, if he makes one move toward you, I'll hex his hands off."

"Not supposed to use magic outside of school. I'm not the secret rule breaker—you are." Harry turned the doorknob while watching the taller boy sneak up behind him. "You'd really do that? Hex his hands off?" he asked, still grinning, and snuck out into the dark living room.

Tom was behind him with a hand on his shoulder, leading Harry toward the front door. "You better believe it," he whispered back.

-

The grass crunched under their feet, bleached and dried out from lack of rain. Both boys ran, panting and sweating, pushing their way through the thatch of trees and reached the crooked dirt path. They ran until Tom could run no more. He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He watched Harry's silhouette disappear as the path took a sharp turn, and sighed as the wonderful feeling and sinful thoughts crept back through his body and mind. He tipped to his side, dropping his forehead against a birch tree and laughed humourlessly at the irony of falling in love with his brother when he found it so repulsive to think of his mother and her brother doing the immoral courtship that they did.

"He's only thirteen," he told himself. "Okay, nearly fourteen, couple of days give or take… oh God, and he's so handsome… and my brother…"

"Are you going to stand there humping trees all night, or are you coming?" The angelically-evil hiss of Parseltongue sent cruel shivers down Tom's spine. Harry peered at him from the path, giggling manically. He had soused himself in the water, and stood shimmering against the backdrop of the indigo sky. "Get a move on, you old cow!" He turned and ran, and Tom forced the wicked imagery away as he pulled himself up to stand.

A splash rang out through the trees. Tom trudged through the nettles and bramble, wishing he would have worn something on his legs. The pond came into view soon after. He stood at end of the trail in a daze, basking in the magnificence of the scenery. It did not look how he remembered it the summer before. It had only been a pond then, but now with waking eyes, it held a beauty, an ethereal perfection he was blinded from before. Long, braided vines of willow trees swung lazily in the breeze over the moonlit pool of sparkling water. Lily pads bobbed with the ripples. The whoop of a crane called in the distance, and Harry emerged in the centre of the pool, throwing his head back to get the hair out of his eyes. "There you are," Tom hailed, letting a smile creep up on his lips.

"Oh, it's fantastic, Tom, get in here!" Harry squalled, splashing handfuls of water like a child in Tom's direction as he stepped into the water. "Don't forget to take your pants off!"

Glancing at a bush beside him, Tom eyed Harry's little white breeches dangling from its thorny prunes. His brow furrowed, and heated breath puffed from his nostrils. This test was growing more difficult than he could handle. There had to be a cure for this affliction of finding another boy attractive, but he had yet to discover one. "We can dry them off with magic, Harry. There's no need to swim nude."

Harry shrugged, oblivious to Tom's meaning and submerged himself once more.

With a grunt of vexation, Tom dove headfirst into the water. He broke the surface, trembling from the sudden temperature change that washed over his skin. He pushed the fringe out of his eyes and rubbed the nape of his neck, adjusting to the drizzle running down the length of his back. His toes dug into the slimy base of the pool as a soft breeze kissed his chest. With a loll of his head, heaven had been achieved.

"Thinking about that tart again, git?" Shock stirred Tom from his contentment, feeling fingers curl around his neck and a foot press into the back of his knee. He was pulled under before he could react, submersed completely as Harry coiled around him. With a thrust, he shoved up and surfaced with Harry clinging to his back.

After several deep breaths, Tom pursed his lips.

"I'll bet you were wanking," Harry whispered in his ear, arms and legs wrapped solidly around his waist and neck. "Letch. Did I interrupt?"

"Utter rubbish, get off," Tom hissed. Harry was making kissing noises against the shell of his ear, his lips so close; he only had to turn his own head a notch to touch them with his mouth. The tingle returned. Warmth grew from Tom's pelvis, feeling this body so connected to him. An all too familiar stir began to harden him despite the mental fight to hide it. Wrong, wicked, immoral... "Really, Harry, let go!"

Teeth nipped and latched onto Tom's earlobe. Harry growled lowly before pushing off and away from him. "I hope the birds don't do that to me when I'm sixteen," he sang, and Tom whirled around in fret, certain that some part of Harry's leg had grazed his crotch as he untangled himself. Oh my God, he knows…

"Do what?" he cried, gaping at him and covering his erection with both hands. The last thing in the world he wanted was for Harry to know he had aroused him. The boy was naïve, but not half as thick as most.

"Turn me into a bore," Harry replied while floating on his back. "You're so dull, Tom-Tom. I'm shocked you didn't bring a book in the water to study."

Relief washed over the older boy. He released the breath he was holding and settled back into the water. That cure had to be out there. He hated avoiding Harry this much, but it was a necessity. "I'd rather be dull and not a runt—like you," he jested, knowing how deeply the remark would get under Harry's skin.

Harry stopped floating and stood waist-deep in the water. "Is that so?" he said darkly.

Tom could feel the anger building, and realised he had probably missed some sort of recent quarrel between Harry and Morfin with his late returns home. He threw his hands up and headed toward the shore. "I'm going back, tired," he grumbled. He did not want to row with Harry in the middle of the night, in the middle of a pond, without any clothing on.

He pulled himself out of the water and began the trudge back to the tiny house. Less than a minute later, Harry was beside him, hiking his breeches up on his hips. "Do you really think I'm a runt, Tom?" he egged, "You can just say it, you know. Runt or no, I can take it."

Tom kept his eyes on the path. There were so many things he thought of Harry as, but 'runt' was not one of them. "I don't think you're a runt. I didn't mean it."

"Are you taking mummy to town tomorrow? She asked me if I'd go help her with the wash and all that, but I've got my own job to do." Harry's mind worked so mysteriously, Tom mused. He was hot one moment, cool the next. He truly believed that Harry had already forgotten the ill name he had called him moments before.

"Course," he replied with a snort. "I could do that. Mind you, after tomorrow I won't be around much again. Got my own things to do."

Harry looked down at his feet, hurt, but an eerie howl cut through the woods, giving him a start. He gasped; already spooked from thinking about those awful Slytherin boys Tom preferred to spend his time with, and the knowledge that Mr Riddle had spotted him in the stables earlier that day. He reached out and clutched the older boy's hand. "Are we almost back? I can't see a thing."

Tom looked downward at the boy. "Where's your glasses?"

Harry bit his bottom lip as he halted his steps. "I left them back at the pond," he groaned, looking behind him.

"I'll summon them when we get back," Tom soothed, squeezing Harry's hand with reassurance.

With a grin, Harry nuzzled against his side. "Thanks. You think of everything, you know that?"

Sadly, he only wished that were true. Everything going through Tom's mind was naughty and un-right. The beautiful boy with glowing-green eyes and rubbing up against him was driving him slowly mad with lust. Pinching his thigh, Tom yanked Harry forward as he pressed on. "It's nothing," he whispered as they reached the copse of the woods. "I'd do anything for you."

AN: Thanks to everyone for the very kind reviews! I'm sorry this took nearly a week to get out but the flow was, and still is, giving me a problem. The next chapter needs a "minor" warning to it. It's just some over-the-clothes stuff, but Harry's still quite young. Again, thank you so much, I hope this part doesn't disappoint! Please let me know what you think!